#starting in the late 1800's

[clownfire]

I need to animate Deacon doing the Akira slide but it's just him unsummoning his horse.

[etlu-yume]

ok no but this is kinda funny I had to double check what I thought this was, and I was right alkjshdf

Ionic is a type of Architecture, specifically it's one of the three main column architecture styles ("orders") that were used in classical Greek and Roman architecture!

(aljkshdf please I just had to double check where the meme came from and it's Emperor Palpatine and that's kind of hilarious considering the way this architecture was so popular???)

[canisalbus]

hello!!! I’m a tiny bit new to this blog, and I have a question about something you mentioned in your last post, about Machete as a toddler and being sick often… why is he so sick? Is it because of the environment/lack of resources, or does it have something to do with the dog breed itself? just the smallest thing I was curious about! and I hope you’re doing well, your art is so thoughtful and emotional, I’m glad I discovered your work!

I think the main thing that is making Machete sickly is his anemia, most of his symptoms and chronic health issues can be traced back to it. There wouldn't have been treatments available, since the disorder itself was only discovered in the early 1800's, roughly 200 years after his death in the original setting. (In fact the popular treatment for most ailments at the time was bloodletting, which, as you can imagine, only made things worse).

Anemia causes headaches, fatique and physical weakness so he was a listless, irritable and lethargic child. When severe enough, it starts to undermine your immune system, so he would've been catching all sorts of bugs, viruses and inflammations more often than what is normal (which isn't ideal when you're a financially pinched commoner living in the late 1500's with limited access to healthcare and no modern medicine like antibiotics). He wasn't eating or growing well and might've been hitting some of his developmental benchmarks later than what is ideal.

His albinism also poses some challenges his parents would've been unfamiliar with. When your body doesn't produce pigment, the structures of your eyes don't develope quite like they should, which leads to vision impairment and extreme light sensitivity. So his parents would be taking him outside on a sunny day (plenty of those in Sicily), and the sunlight would physically hurt Machete's eyes, but a small child wouldn't be able to clearly communicate what is making him so uncomfortable. Unlike most dogs, he also gets sunburnt very easily. In his parents' eyes he was a kid that was always a little uncomfortable, always a little sick, and fussy about things they couldn't understand.

[the-fiction-witch]

Secret

Media The Artful Dodger (Pre Show Release)

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Sweet + Cute

Warnings - Sexual Trauma / Rape/ 1800's Abortion

I was beyond fearful.

A thousand thoughts flew through my mind.

I worried about what my fate would be.

What would happen to me?

What little I could even do?

All with the knowledge, that this was a ticking time bomb. And the longer I lingered, the less time I would have.

This secret would not stay a secret forever, and every moment I waited jeopardised the potential of my secret being revealed. And if it were, there would be problems, to say the least.

So I had no alternative, I had to do something about it.

I dressed for the day in my boots, hosiery, bloomers, petticoats, frock, jacket, hat and parasol and headed down the stairwell to the front door.

"Where do you think you're off to?" My father spoke up as he arrived from his study, a glass of whiskey in hand.

His brother, my uncle beside him with his own and a cigar between his lips.

"Just off to the market," I lied as I tried to stare at the door and not glimpse at them both.

"I'll Accompany you," My uncle proposed with a smirk.

"No." I snapped, "No thank you, I think I would like the walk alone,"

"Alright, Be back before dark." My father demanded before he headed back to his study, I grabbed my gloves from beside the door and slipped them on in a rush to get out when my uncle came close, he rested his brown oxford shoe between my legs, pressed himself tightly to my body and came so close I could smell his whiskey, his cigar and the horrid scent of sour apples.

"Don't be late darling," He whispered in my ear

I didn't answer him so he just skulked off back to the study with my father, I squandered no time and scurried from the house I made sure to be seen at the market but I didn't make a single purchase I just wilted around and spoke to a few to make sure I would have been seen if anyone asked about me.

Once that was done, I made my way to the familiar house often frequented by those like me in circumstances with little hope, often as a last resort. The house was stunning; it couldn't be disavowed, the house itself was small, only really existing on the upper floors, with the bottom the office, storerooms, prep spaces and all other things required for the profession of he who lived in the house.

I made sure to journey there discreetly not wanting my presence to be witnessed as I rang the bell and lingered, each second felt like hours until ultimately the door was yanked open.

There he stood in black shoes sludgy from their wear, a pair of black trousers well pressed and fitted to his thin body, a faint thin white shirt with his sleeves wadded up to his elbows, a green fabric tie loosely knotted around his neck, a pair of cream and black suspenders over his shoulders, a blue well-worn waistcoat, his hair in its typical fluffy way mostly thrown to one side, His brown eyes looked wide as he opened the door unsure who to be expecting behind it but his lip upturned into a small smile.

"Ohh, Hello Miss Y/l/n this is a nice surprise," He smiled.

"Hello Doctor, Could I come in?"

"Yes of course" he smiled happily let me in and closed the door behind me "To what do I owe the pleasure then?" he asked.

"May we speak... privately?"

"Ohh course, come into the office nice and private in there," he ushered me through to his small office just off the operating room and down from a small store room. He got a cushy chair for me and moved it by the fire with another "There we are, Would you like a cup of tea?"

"No thank you, Doctor," I answered as I took a seat nervously and uncontrollably picked at my nail beds,

"Just Jack you've known me long enough," he chuckled, as he took his chair across from me "Are you alright?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, you're picking at your cuticles, you haven't made eye contact with me since I opened the door and you look... like you're about to either smack me or start crying." He said, "So? What's going on?"

"Well" I began, as I battled back my tears. "I'm sorry this isn't easy..."

"What's wrong y/n?" He asked, as he tilted forward to gently take my hand in his own.

"I had to come to visit you today, I wish it was under more pleasing circumstances," I explained, tears uncontrollably flooding down my face. "I'm so sorry Jack but I must ask you to keep a secret,"

"Of course,"

"No, I mean it. I'm serious. This must be a secret," I explained.

"Y/n, I promise no matter what you tell me it's a secret, just between us," he said, as he lifted from his chair and fetched me some tissues from his desk before he returned to his seat.

"You promise?"

"I promise. Not a Word of it will pass my lips, not a sound of it will leave this room, I swear I won't tell a soul,"

"I need your help, Jack."

"With what?"

"... I know you, haven't always walked on the Side of lawfulness,"

"hey!" He pouted "My thievery has been very occasional," he corrects playfully.

"I hate to ask, I know it would be a risk for you to do such a thing for me,"

"Well... what is it?"

"I- I'm sorry." I began as I choked up with tears again.

"It's alright, whatever assistance you need I'll be here for you. you just have to tell me what it is,"

My blood ran cold, my words stunted but I knew the time was ticking and I couldn't let these words linger behind my teeth.

"Jack, I'm pregnant."

He froze up, his hand on mine went clammy, and the colour drained from his face for a moment. He moved back to press himself into his chair, he ran a hand through his hair and down his face rubbing on his jaw before he spoke.

"...Okay." He nodded, as he brought his hands together and broke the silence that lingered between us and the fire. "Why would you need my help if you're pregnant?" He asked.

"Why else?" I told him.

"It's not my area of expertise. You should see the midwife-",

"No!" I snapped, "She's a chatterbox you know that. That girl couldn't keep a secret If I stitched her mouth shut,"

"Good point," he chuckled.

"Even so, she wouldn't endorse what I'm doing,"

"Understandable,"

"I don't trust anyone sufficiently with this. Anyone but you Jack,"

"Thanks, I guess," He smiled, "What do you intend to do?"

"I don't have a choice. no one can know, my father will find out and he'll send me away, if not worse. He'll call me a whore and ship me off or worse," I explained, "If anyone in town found out they'd lock me away," I explained "Jack... I can't be pregnant. I need to not be pregnant."

"Okay," he nodded, "This is illegal you know that right?"

"I do. But I don't have a choice."

"if anyone ever found out, we'd both be in a lot of trouble."

"I know," I nodded. "I understand if you can't Jack. I understand if you can't stake your-",

"I'll do it."

"You will?"

"If it's what you want." He nods.

"You don't have to do this for me."

"I want to." he reassured, "I can't endure to see you like this, Can I ask something?"

"Alright,"

"Who's the father?"

That question froze me to my core. "Why do you ask?"

"Don't you think you should tell him?"

"No. No, I can't."

"Does he know you're pregnant?"

"No."

"Do you think it's possible... Just hear me out! maybe if you told him? you think he'd marry you?"

"He might. but I don't want that."

"Why not? you liked him enough to let him-" He began, but all I could do was look at him. "You did let him, didn't you?" he asked and I shook my head as I fought back my tears, he ran his hand over his face "I'm sorry I shouldn't-",

"It's okay," I nodded.

"Come here y/n," He offered.

I got up from the chair and stepped over to his own, he happily took my hand removed my gloves gave my skin a soft kiss and tugged me gently into his lap so I could sit over him my head against his chest as he ran his fingers gently across my frock, his other hand ran his fingers over me removed my hat and gently ran through my hair, every so often he kissed the top of my head.

"I'm so sorry y/n." He whispered, "You don't need to worry, I promise not a soul will know, we'll sort this out as soon as possible," he explained.

"Thank you, Jack."

"It's okay" he cooed, "How long has this been happening?"

"A while now,"

"Okay," he nodded. "Before you go through with this, will you listen to what I have to say?"

"Of course Jack,"

"I know it must all seem frightening now, and like you need to hurry knowing every day this is developing inside you, and I'm sure it must hurt you to even think about this child given its conception and the peril it now poses to you," he explained, "But... we would have to keep this secret until the end of our days, not a soul could ever know if anyone did find out we'd be fortunate to be locked up. Even so, this... procedure isn't straightforward, it carries a grave risk not only of failure, of pain, but of threat to you. If something goes awry, it could kill you," he explained.

"I know that."

"You can't expect me to be alright with conceivably killing you,"

"Isn't that the risk every one of your patients accepts when they decide to lay on the operating table?"

"Well yes but-",

"But what Jack?"

"But... that's not a fate I want for you." he said, "Is there... anyway I can talk you out of this?"

"No,"

"There's no way that deep down he might be an agreeable gentleman?"

"Unquestionably not,"

"Okay, is there any way you could go someplace?"

"I can't,"

"Any suitor boys you could sharply marry before you show?"

"None to mention no,"

"Is there any chance you're going to regret this? And want to keep your baby? Because once I do this that's it. Babies gone forever."

"I'm certain Jack."

"What if..." he began "I married you?"

My heart stopped beating a moment as a panic rushed over me unsure I heard him correctly.

"If you what?"

"What if, I married you?" He asked, "I'm a surgeon so your father would be happy to wed me his daughter, I have a house with plenty of space and not a soul to share it with, I have a decent income so you'd only need to be a housewife, you wouldn't even have to clean the theatre if you didn't want to." He explained, "I feel you and I get along better than I do with most other ladies, in fact, I feel I get along best with you above everyone else in the world. I am happy to keep your secret, you and I can go to your father in a few days. I can ask for your hand and by the end of the month we can be married. Long before you start to show, you can grow the baby to term and I'll be there to hold your hand when the baby comes, and I'll welcome our little one as if they were my own. The world outside these walls and the baby needs never to know any different."

"Jack, you'd truly do that for me?'

"Of course I would,"

"You don't have to do that,"

"I know. I want to" he smiled, kissing my head. "I'd adore to have you as my wife,"

"That's so lovely Jack," I smiled, sitting up a little. "But I can't."

"Why not?"

"It's not fair for you to squander your life marrying me just because of this,"

"Y/n, I wouldn't ask if it was just because of this. Honestly... I've been considering it for some time now just never really got the opportunity to ask you."

"You mean it?"

"I do,"

"I... I can't - I'm sorry Jack." I said, "I'd love to marry you, I really would but I want this procedure, it has to be done,"

"Okay," he nodded "If that's what you want," he said, "After the procedure would you still want to marry me?"

"I would," I blushed "If that is you'd be happy to marry a-"

"Don't you even say that," he warns, "Don't you dare. You're not broken. You're not damaged. You're not some glass bottle y/n you're a woman. I don't care what's happened to you. If you're happy to marry me then I'd be happy to marry you too."

"Really?"

"Really." He nods, "So how about tomorrow morning I come over and speak to your father, ask him for your hand, we can be married by the end of the week and we can go through the procedure then, and I'll take my new wife up to bed once it's over and take care of you until your all better."

"That sounds perfect,"

"And maybe once you're all better we could... start on a little one of our own? Once you're comfortable of course,"

"I'd like that very much, Jack." I smiled and I nuzzled into his chest.

"Perfect. Then it's decided." he smiled and wrapped his arms around me tightly to pull me close into a cuddle "I'll see him first thing tomorrow morning, and as soon as he'll let me I'll make you Mrs y/n Dawkins,"

"Sounds pretty,"

"It suits you" he cooed, kissing my forehead. "So? Will you marry me, sweetheart?"

"I will Jack," I blushed.

"May I kiss my bride-to-be?" he whispered against my hair intertwining his fingers with my own.

"You normally have to wait for the wedding day for that,"

"I'm impatient," he shrugs playfully.

"Well... I suppose," I smiled, sitting up a little and resting my chin on his shirt.

He smiled squeezing my hand so I squeezed back his other hand came and stroked the back of the knuckle of his index finger across the length of my cheekbone ending with a playful bop on my nose before he smiled and leant in capturing my lips in a gentle kiss, he smelt like oak wood, old iron and petrichor, I could taste his earlier tea still lingering in his lips, his skin soft but his lips scarcely cracked from the heat and the sun, I enjoyed our kisses as I'd never enjoyed anything before, his kisses reminded me of sweet summer toffees, of birds cooing in the morning sun, of the sweet embrace of a warm soft bed. I felt comforted, sweetened and protected in a way I haven't felt since I was small.

When we pulled away I couldn't stop my smile as I snuggled back into his chest.

"humm now I have to marry you," he cooed.

"Do you?"

"I think if just a little kiss makes me feel like this, then I must be kissing the girl I should marry," he cooed.

We lay snuggly for a good while until finally, he broke the silence between us.

"Will you tell me? Why do you want to get rid of it so badly?"

"Because of its conception,"

"Understandable. Who's the father?"

"Jack-",

"Please, I promise I won't tell anyone and I'll all be over soon anyway. I just want to know,"

"My Uncle Warren," I answered, nuzzling as deep into his waistcoat as I could.

I felt his skin go cold, his heart slow, and his hands freeze up.

"Warren?" He asked and I nodded, "Your UNCLE!" he yelled and I nodded.

"Please don't be angry with me Jack," I whispered.

"No no no! Y/n sweetheart no I'm not angry at you I promise," he reassured, "I'm sorry but I have to make sure I heard you right," he said picking my face up in his hands and holding us so my nose was against his "Your uncle, Did this to you? Your father's brother, who lives with you, who has lived with you since you were six, did this to you?"

"Yes Jack," I nodded.

"How often does he do this to you?"

"At least twice a week. He'll come up to my room after dark and-" I began to cry.

"sh sh sh it's okay." He reassured, "You know what. I changed my mind. Let's go see your father now," he said as he got up.

"Are you sure Jack?"

"Ohh I'm positive sweetheart," he said as we gathered our things and headed to the door "ohh before I forget," he said as he rushed to the prep room a moment, "Perfect, that'll do," he smirked, as he returned with an impressive knife often used in his surgeries to cut through skin and muscle tissue.

"Jack?" I asked curiously.

"Come on then," he smiled, as he put the knife in his jacket and came to the door.

"Jack, what are you doing?"

"Going to talk to your father, come on," he smiled, as he took my hand as we headed out into the sunset of the evening.

"Jack why are you taking the -"

"We're just going to have a nice little chat." He said, "A nice little chat."

"You're not going to -"

"I just wanna talk to him,"

Finally, we arrived at my door and he knocked and held me close even if I was beyond frightened.

The door opened to my father who instantly saw me.

"There you are, girl! we've been worried sick about you -" he began, "ohh Dr Dawkins? This is a surprise what are you doing here?" he asked as he saw Jack with me perplexed as to why the two of us were together.

"Just popping by, may I come in?" Jack smiled,

"Of course come in, we're in the study," he said, as he ushered us both inside and into the study. I quickly sat on the short sofa by the fire and picked up my embroidery to try and preoccupy myself and keep myself silent as they often requested.

My father went to his small bar tray fixing himself a drink and one for Jack, both of which he set on the table between us all, before he sat on the sofa beside Warren. Jack found his seat on the chair in the centre, he gave me a small smile even if his eyes lingered on my uncle.

"What do we owe the pleasure doctor?" My uncle asked, but he looked at me as he asked,

"Well, I won't bother with pleasantries. Y/n. I want to marry her,"

My uncle spat his drink.

"You what?!" my father asked in shock.

"I wish to marry y/n,"

"Uhh, right? Are you sure?" My father asked, "A handsome, trained, gentleman such as yourself surely you'd be more interested elsewhere?"

"I am interested in her,"

"Well, the surgeon is certainly better than I'd thought she'd do. I was assuming she'd be a spinster or sell her off to the milk boy's son" He explained, "Well you'll be living in your house I presume?"

"Of course,"

"You'll take care of her? Treat her well?"

"Undoubtedly."

"Well, Alright." he shrugged, "So long as you're sure? That's my only rule you can't bring her back," He joked.

"That will not be a concern, sir."

"Alright, well I am pleased to allow this engagement," He smiled, "Congratulations you two,"

"You're alright with the wedding being soon? We don't really want to wait."

"The sooner the better!" My father smiled, "We must celebrate, I'll fetch us some champagne," He smiled and got up from his seat and gave my head a little kiss as he passed and headed out of the study.

"This is good news indeed," My uncle smirked. "Very sudden," he smirked, as he got up and came to loom over me "You really believe you're going to get away from me that easily?"

"I'd step back if I were you," Jack warned him and pressed his knife against Warren's chest and he forced him to move back,

"Why should I? She's my niece,"

"Yeah, and I know what you've been doing to her."

Immediately he looked furious "Whatever she told you, It's a lie."

"Forgive me if I make my own assumptions."

"Fine, I'll back up," he said, as he moved back a little.

"Good. Now I hear that you're anywhere near my fiancé, or that you've done anything to her I'll cut your cock off,"

"You wouldn't dare!"

"I would." he warned, "And I'm a surgeon. I know how to do it and make sure you survive to suffer,"

"Fine," He said as he returned to his sofa.

Jack smiled and sat beside me as he hid his knife away and gave my cheek a little kiss as my father returned with some champagne.

I was skittish but I knew this had to happen. The last few days have been so busy. Our wedding was so precious even if it was small and brief, I had moved into the house and it very quickly felt like home, Jack had made sure of that. He had made the place cosy for me, often checking in on me to see if I was alright and so far he had been the best husband I could have ever wished for. I strolled through the locked-up house by the glow of my candle, only my cotton nightgown against my skin I had accepted this would be the last time I would likely wear it. I reached the theatre, the stalls were dark and empty, the windows blacked out, and even the door to the prep room bolted and curtained with only the door I walked through left open for me. The chandelier hung above the bed lighting this room enough to see, the table prepared freshly cleaned with a cover over it, and sawdust under the table to aid in cleaning.

The room was utterly silent.

Jack stood in front of his small table, lining items across the table from a Water Basin. The tools all lingered there in the boiling water already freshly cleaned, he took them from the water and dried them with a new cloth before setting them in their place on a covered table. All this was far more covered and more cleanliness than was typical of Jack and his work but I suppose in his mind, It's not every day he operates on his own wife. I stepped In and closed the door behind me, I bolted the lock and turned to give him a grim smile. He smiled back a little more optimistic than my own smile silence still between us in the hope that everything we were to do tonight would be a secret between only us and the ghosts.

He offered his hand so I set my candle down and went over, I took his hand and he softly pressed a kiss there, he stroked my cheekbone and playfully smiled as he gave my nose a little bop and then a kiss before he helped me up onto the table.

"Just relax sweetheart," he reassured, as he adjusted me slightly, "Any discomfort?" he asked,

"I'm very hungry and thirsty," I admit,

"I know sweetheart," he smiled and kissed my forehead, "I'll make you some soup and a nice big glass of juice as soon as we're done I promise," he said as he used the buckle belts on the table to restain my legs and arms even my stomach and for a moment I giggled.

"Ohh Jack, if you were into that sort of thing you should really have told me before we got married,"

"Don't be cheeky Mrs Dawkins Or I'll give you such a spanking," He warned

"You'll be gentle? Won't you?"

"Of course I will," he reassured, "As gentle as I can be." He smiled, "I mean it's in my best interest too, you're my wife."

"I suppose you would be very interested in maintaining that part of me," I blushed.

"Well yes. But I was more thinking, you're my wife. I'm the one that's going to have to deal with you. I cause you too much pain I'll never hear the end of it,"

"No, you won't," I told him.

"Okay, you ready?" he asked.

"I'm ready," I nodded.

"I'll take care of you, I promise," He reassured me as he offered me the little cup that contained the anaesthesia. I happily swallowed it even if it tasted terrible, "There we go, you get some rest sweetheart, I'll take care of you,"

"Thank you, Jack," I smiled. We shared a sweet kiss before I began to drift away falling into a deep sleep.

I woke up and I felt sore, my whole body ached, my body lay in my bed with blankets and pillows, and everything hurt but it was a pain I knew well as it reminded me so much of my monthly pains.

"Sweetheart, Hey? Are you feeling okay?" Jack asked as he came through into the bedroom with some soup and juice that he sat by the table

"Everything hurts," I answered.

"It will do," He smiled, sitting beside me and giving my forehead a little kiss, "but it's all done. Nothing to worry about any more,"

"It's gone?"

"Gone. Now I'm going to be taking care of you until you're all better," he smiled, "You need to rest, take it easy, be gentle with yourself, No baths you're going to have to shower I'm more than happy to help with that," he winked, "And two, maybe three weeks you'll be good as new,"

"thank you, Jack,"

"You're welcome, Go on have your soup you need anything at all just call alright I'll be in the office" He explained, he gave me a sweet kiss before he went to head out of the bedroom.

"Jack?"

"Yeah y/n?"

"I love you," I giggled.

"Love you too sweetheart" He cooed as he blew me a kiss and headed down to his office. 

[lalchimiedecupid]

providing a question for you to answer if you want

what time periods do you think the coven was actually born in and when do you think they started stopping their aging??

The Age differences:

Lilia: I feel like Lilia was born in the early 1300s. I don't know it just feels like it, and it makes sense because the The Plague hit Sicily in like 1347. I feel like Lilia stopped aging when she reached 60, or maybe mid 50s. (I honestly thought Patti was in her mid fifties before I googled her).

Agatha: Agatha is born in the late 1600's (1675) and she stopped aging after Nicholas's death. So like..Mid to late 40s.

Jen: Jen gives me 1700-1800 vibes, can't really tell. And she definitely stopped aging once she hit her 30s. Ms girl reached skin perfection and called it a day.

Alice : My baby is a baby. She's in her 40s. Born in the mid 1970s.

Rio : possessed the body of someone once and can't let it go. The real mystery is how old that body is.

[chere-indolente]

Treat #2 : The Reformer

This treat is a set inspired by the Dress reform movement (a bit of the Aesthetic movement too, lots of overlap between these two) from the 1895 to the late 1900s.

More pics and download below

It includes the following CC items :

Like the Aesthetic movement, the Reform dress movement dates back to the mid 1800's. It aimed at making women garments less constricting (for reasons varying from praticality, political leanings, supposed health downsides of corsets...). It was linked to feminism especially at the start and gave birth to the bloomers in 1851 for example.

Reform dress usually involved making it so that the main weight of the clothing would be carried by the shoulders and torso instead of solely the waist and thus get rid of the corset and masses of underskirts, to establish a "more practical type of dress that would facilitate a physical and productive life". This resulted most times in flowy dress, usually tea gowns. Like previously mentionned there's a big overlap between reform and aesthetic dresses since the medieval and antique (and even sometimes regency) influences fited the less structured reform dress silhouette of the late 1800's / early 1900's.

Once again this type of clothing wasn't well considered by the society at large, it took hold in specific artistic spheres such as the one surrounding the Wiener Werksträtte (a viennese artist association of which Emilie Flöge was a part of, the artwork is truly fascinating and very influencial look it up !).

This type of dress was so unconventional that apparently, the painter Henri de Toulouse Lautrec (who might I add painted prostitutes and such on the daily) was scandalised by Maria Sèthe Van de Velde's appearance when she welcomed him in a tea gown (see the blue tea gown below for reference) which he mistook for a dressing gown. I feel like this little anecdote helps to put things into perspective.

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Download : dropbox — simfileshare

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And if you’re curious here were my main visuals references for this set :

[robertreich]

From Robber Barons to Bezos: Is History Repeating Itself?

Ultra-wealthy elites…Political corruption…Vast inequality…

These problems aren’t new — in the late 1800s they dominated the country during America’s first Gilded Age.

We overcame these abuses back then, and we can do it again.

Mark Twain coined the moniker “The Gilded Age” in his 1873 novel to describe the era in American history characterized by corruption and inequality that was masked by a thin layer of prosperity for a select few.

The end of the 19th century and start of the 20th marked a time of great invention — bustling railroads, telephones, motion pictures, electricity, automobiles — which changed American life forever.

But it was also an era of giant monopolies — oil, railroad, steel, finance — run by a small group of men who had grown rich beyond anything America had ever seen.

They were known as “robber barons” because they ran competitors out of business, exploited workers, charged customers exorbitant prices, and lived like royalty as a result.

Money consumed politics. Robber barons and their lackeys donated bundles of cash to any lawmaker willing to do bidding on their behalf. And when lobbying wasn’t enough, the powerful turned to bribery — resulting in some of the most infamous political scandals in American history.

The gap between the rich and poor in America reached astronomical levels. Large numbers of Americans lived in squalor.

Anti-immigrant sentiment raged, leading to the enactment of racist laws to restrict immigration. And voter suppression, largely aimed at Black men who had recently won the right to vote, was rampant.

The era was also marked by dangerous working conditions. Children often as young as 10, but sometimes younger, worked brutal hours in sweatshops. Workers trying to organize labor unions were attacked and killed.

It seemed as if American capitalism was out of control, and American democracy couldn’t do anything about it because it was bought and paid for by the rich.

But Americans were fed up, and they demanded reform. Many took to the streets in protest.

Investigative journalists, often called “muckrakers” then, helped amplify their cries by exposing what was occurring throughout the country.

And a new generation of political leaders rose to end the abuses.

Politicians like Teddy Roosevelt, who warned that, “a small class of enormously wealthy and economically powerful men, whose chief object is to hold and increase their power,” could destroy American democracy.

After becoming president in 1901, Roosevelt used the Sherman Antitrust Act to break up dozens of powerful corporations, including the giant Northern Securities Company which had come to dominate railroad transportation through a series of mergers.

Seeking to limit the vast fortunes that were creating a new American aristocracy, Congress enacted a progressive income tax through the 16th Amendment, as well as two wealth taxes.

The first wealth tax, in 1916, was the estate tax — a tax on the wealth someone accumulated during their lifetime, paid by the heirs who inherited it. The second tax on wealth, enacted in 1922, was a capital gains tax — a tax on the increased value of assets, paid when those assets were sold.

The reformers of the Gilded Age also stopped corporations from directly giving money to politicians or political candidates.

And then Teddy Roosevelt’s fifth cousin — you may have heard of him — continued the work through his New Deal programs — creating Social Security, unemployment insurance, a 40-hour workweek, and requiring that employers bargain in good faith with labor unions.

But following the death of FDR and the end of World War II, when America was building the largest middle class the world had ever seen — we seemed to forget about the abuses of the Gilded Age.

Now, more than a century later, America has entered a second Gilded Age.

It is also a time of extraordinary invention.

And a time when monopolies are taking over vast swathes of the economy, so we must renew antitrust enforcement to bust up powerful companies.

Now, another generation of robber barons is accumulating unprecedented money and power. So once again, we must tax these exorbitant fortunes.  

Wealthy individuals and big corporations are once again paying off lawmakers, sending them billions to conduct their political campaigns, even giving luxurious gifts to Supreme Court justices. So we need to protect our democracy from Big Money, just as we did before.

Voter suppression runs rampant in the states as during the first Gilded Age, making it harder for people of color to participate in what’s left of our democracy. So it’s once again critical to defend and expand voting rights.

Working people are once again being exploited and abused, child labor is returning, unions are busted, the poor are again living in unhealthy conditions, homelessness is on the rise, and the gap between the ultra-rich and everyone else is nearly as large as in the first Gilded Age. So once again we need to protect the rights of workers to organize, invest in social safety nets, and revive guardrails to protect against the abuses of great wealth and power.

The question now is the same as it was at the start of the 20th century: Will we fight for an economy and a democracy that works for all rather than the few?

We’ve done it before. We can — and must — do it again.

[snowy-equinox]

Spirit Boards are Just Another Divination Method

It feels like spirit boards often get ‘othered’ in the world of divination. People label them as either innately dangerous and to be treated with caution, or as an ineffectual toy that shouldn’t be taken seriously. What could be someone’s favorite form of divination is shoved aside for more ‘traditional’ methods like cartomancy or scrying. In truth, they’re not any different from more popular divination methods, and it’s time we embrace them as another tool in the diviner’s arsenal. 

Spirit Boards Started as a Game

‘Spirit board’ is a broad term for any board that is used for spirit communication. They often have “yes”, “no”, the alphabet, and numbers engraved or printed on their surface; a planchette or pendulum is used to mark the spirit’s response by moving to the appropriate symbol. The most popular spirit board is the Ouija board, which was first made by Hasbro in the late 1800’s. 

Many will point to its origin as a game to say that it’s just a toy, it can’t actually be used for spirit communication. However, the makers of Ouija were inspired by reports of Spiritualists in Ohio using ‘talking boards’ to contact the dead; while Ouija specifically was invented as a game, it is based off a real divinatory system. 

I also want to point out that many divinatory systems we use today started as games. Tarot cards started as a style of playing card, yet I don’t see anyone doubting their ability to communicate with spirits. If being manufactured specifically as a game or toy interferes with an object’s spiritual abilities, why can we use modern playing cards or dice to divine when we don’t have access to tarot? 

Why Are Spirit Boards Dangerous? 

I’m sincerely asking. You can use tarot in the exact same way as a spirit board, yet tarot blogs are not drowning in disclaimers and warnings. I’ve never once been told I have to say goodbye to end a session, and I’ve researched tarot, oracle decks, runes, scrying, and pendulums.

Many will say that spirit boards can open portals. Why does a spirit board open portals, when tarot, which can also be used to communicate with spirits, doesn’t? Most likely, this was just made up by horror movies so the use of spirit boards can be the inciting incident for the plot.

Why do we assume Ouija boards only work when there’s an entity on the other side? We often think of tarot, runes, and pendulums as housing their own benevolent spirit, so it should follow that spirit boards can do the same. Now, some people believe that divination tools don’t have their own spirit, and are simply blank objects manipulated by external entities. In that case, why would spirit boards be more dangerous to use? Shouldn’t every divination tool carry a risk of attracting malevolent entities? You might say that’s why people will recommend putting up protections before a divination session; that would mean we could put up protections before using a spirit board and we’d be just as safe, so there’s no reason to fearmonger about them specifically. 

The aura of danger spirit boards possess is purely from their horror movie reputation; they’ve been portrayed as dangerous because they’re a horror movie darling and that has become everyone’s first impression. 

Many times now, I’ve pushed back on someone’s fear of Ouija boards. I ask the same questions I asked above, and I get mixed results. Many can’t answer those questions, proving my point. I don’t think you can give an actual reason to why spirit boards are dangerous or ineffectual, simply because they aren’t. Once you peel back the horror movie persona, they are just another tool, to be used or misused. 

Sources:

The Ouija Board Can't Connect Us to Paranormal Forces

The Dark History Behind Ouija Boards

[nieves-de-sugui]

A Quick History of BL

As someone who wrote a thesis on this very subject a few years ago, here is the short version of how BL has evolved throughout the years. For the new comers ❤ 

a minute of silence for the original form of this post that tumblr decied to not save right after I saved it

I am going to go with a chronological approach. Unfortunately, I cannot put everything in one post so if there’s any questions about this or that aspect of the history of BL that you want to know and it’s not talked about here, you are welcome to ask me directly :)

Context and influences - Japan in the 60′s

Before the US forced Japan to open its borders to the outside world in the 1800s, homosexual practices were common place between budist monks, samurais and kabuki actors. During the Edo period (1600s to 1800s) there was a very rich amount of poetry, art, books (such as Nanshoku Okagami (The Great Mirror of Male Love) by Ihara Saikaku) and codes of conduct about how to have a good master/aprentice relationship, kinda like the greeks if you know what I mean. However, with the arrival of western influences, in order to become a more “civilized” country, it was all put in the closet. 

Yet, in the 60′s Japan started to pick it up again through literature about young androginous beautiful boys (aka bishounen). On one hand, in 1961, the novel Koibitotachi no Mori (A Lover’s Forest) by Mari Mori was published. It tells the story of a young and beautiful 19 year old worker and a half french half japanese aristocrat, and their tragic romance. On the other hand, Taruho Inagaki wrote Shounen ai no Bigaku (The esthetics of boy-love), an essay on aesthetic eroticism (of which he wrote a lot of). All this was know as Tanbi (lit. aesthetic) literature. It generally refered to literature with implied homosexuality and homoeroticism such as works by Oscar Wilde, Jean Cocteau, etc. And of course, Mori and Inagaki. 

In chinese tanbi is read as danmei (term used to refer to BL novels in china today, ie: The Untamed it’s all connected friends).

From the birth of Shonen Ai  to Yaoi - 70′s to the late 80′s

Around the beginning of the 70′s, shoujo was being revolutionized by the Year 24 Group, a generation of women manga authors (mangaka) who started to explore new themes. Among them, their interest in tanbi gave birth to a new subgenre: Shounen ai. 

Their most known manga were:

Kaze to Ki no Uta (The Ballad of the Wind and Trees) by Keiko Takemiya, and Toma no Shinzo (The Heart of Thomas) by Moto Hagio

Their stories are characterized by having suffering eurpoean bishounen in boarding schools, living an idealized perfect love (meaning passionate) that, despite the tragic end of one of them, lives forever in the other. 

As this genre starts getting popular, more and more fans of these stories start making their own self published manga, aka doujinshi, of the genre. It is around this time that the term Yaoi is coined. Meaning “YAma nashi, Ochi nashi, Imi nashi” (no climax, no fall, no meaning). Basically PWP fanfiction, for the most part. Doujinshis could be considered an equivalent of fanfiction in manga form.  It is also here that the term Fujoshi (aka Rotten Girl, for liking rotten things) starts being used to refer to women readers of yaoi. 

With this rise in popularity come the start of the commercialization of the genre. Which meant the publication of magazines dedicated solely to yaoi/shonen ai/BL. The most popular yaoi manga magazine at the time was June. The common trait of their stories being the therapeutic power of the love between the mains. The traumatized character would heal throught this newfound love.

Most of the stories at this time happened in the West (Europe or the States) as the exploration of these dark themes intertwined with homosexual romance and homoeroticism still feel safer to explore as a foreign concept. One example would be Banana Fish (1985).

Commercialization and Yaoi Ronso -  90′s 

As more publishing houses pick the genre up, the term Boys Love is used to include every type of manga about homosexuality made for women. 

The increasing amount of BL series sees a changes in its themes: 

the start of the “gay for you” trope where one mantains their heterosexuality despite being in a homsexual relationship, 

the uke/seme dynamic (mirroring hetero realtionships) also relating to physical appearence (one being more feminine, the other being more masculine), 

the use of rape as an act love (sexual violence has always been present but here it becomes a staple),

anal sex as the only type of sex, 

older and more masculine men start to appear 

they now happen in Japan

Good examples of the presence of these themes in manga are Gravitation (1996) or Yatteranneeze (1995).

However in 1992, Masaki Sato (a gay activist/drag queen) wrote a letter in a small scale feminist magazine attacking yaoi and pointing out how it “represented a kind of misappropriation or distortion of gay life that impacted negatively upon Japanese gay men”. The female readers of yaoi responded, defending the genre as a means to escape gender roles and explore sexual themes that was never meant to represent the realities of gay men. This is know as the Yaoi Ronso (Yaoi Debates).

The debate ended with both sides understanding more of each other, with mangakas starting to include queer views in their works. It also started the academic reasearch of BL. 

Yet, it is a debate that has been restarted more than once, as it is still relevant despite the evolution of the genre.

more on this on another post

Globalization and coining of BL - 2000′s 

By the beginning of the 2000s BL is being sold all over the world (like all manga), and has become a stable industry. We could say it has finally become it’s own genre. 

Some of the most well known manga series, to us (in the west), of the time are:

Junjou Romantica 2002 Koi Suru Boukun 2004 Love Pistols 2004 Haru wo Daiteita 1999

all of these have anime adaptations for the curious ones

We also start seeing short anime adaptations or special episodes of the most popular series, with questionable themes, such as: adoptive father x adoptive son  (Papa to Kiss in the Dark 2005), father x son’s friend (Kirepapa 2008), etc... 

However the themes remain more or less the same. Junjou Romantica’s love story starts with a non-con sex scene by the older one (masc, seme) to the younger one (more feminine, uke) addressed years later in the manga btw. Koi Suru Boukun’s love story is triggered by aphrodisiacs and rape. They’re still very present in the stories but slowly going away. A mangaka that represents this era could be Natsume Isaku (Candy Color Paradox 2010).

Change is slow in Japan. Even though the voices of LGBT+ people started to be taken into account in the genre it is not until later that we see it reflect in the mangas themselves. However, we can already see the start of this in Doukyusei (Classmates) (2006) by Asumiko Nakamura. Also Kinou Nani Tabeta? (2007) which is actually part of a more mature genre: Seinen.

It is my personal (subjective) theory that the BL of this era was the one that got popular outside of Japan, which is why we see lots of references to the themes, tropes and dynamics of this time in today’s BL series. 

The LGBTzation of BL and the rise of webtoons - 2010′s to 2020′s

Slowly but surely LGBT characters and themes enter the scene of BL. Existing simultaneously with the previous tropes and themes, we start seeing a shift in these stories. We now see:

characters that identify as gay or some type of queer

discussions about homophobia

more mature themes about life and romance

At the same time as we get the usual love stories with the usual themes, a new trend starts to take over. And we get simultaneously, cute, sometimes questionable but light love stories:

Love Stage 2010 Ashita wa Docchi da! 2011 Kieta Hatsukoi 2019

More profound stories and darker or more complex themes:

Blue Sky Complex 2013  Saezuru Tori wa Habatakanai 2011 (mafias) Given 2013 (suicide) Hidamari ga Kikoeru 2013 (deafness)

And others that adress the queer experience in a more mature way (which might actually fall into the Seinen genre)

Itoshi no Nekokke 2010 (slice of life, queer characters) Smells like Green Spirit 2011 (two ways to deal with a homphobic society) Strange 2014 (relationships between men) Shimanami Tasogare 2015 (an LGBT group helps a closeted gay) Old Fashioned Cupcake 2019 (you know this one 😉) Bokura no Micro na Shuumatsu 2020 (the end of the world)

As queer stories are explored, BL mangakas and mangakas from other genres start to consider more stories about queer people such as the Josei Genderless Danshi ni Aisaretemasu (My Androgynous Boyfriend) (2018) by Tamekou, or the Shoujo Goukon ni Itarra Onna ga Inakatta Hanashi (The story of when I went to a mixer and there were no women) (2021) by Nana Aokawa. 

Still, we can see two realities live side by side. Doukyuusei gets adapted into an impactful animated movie in 2016, meanwhile Banana Fish gets an anime adaptation that keeps the homoeroticism but not the homosexuality.  

For those who might be interested. Here are some of the authors that represent the first half of this era, where they start to include newer points of view:

Scarlet Beriko, HAYAKAWA Nojiko, KURAHASHI Tomo, OGERETSU Tanaka, Harada, KII Kanna (Stranger by the Sea), etc...

And authors that while keeping classical themes break the stereotypes in a subtle manner:

CTK, ZAKK, Jyanome, Cocomi, Hidebu Takahashi, SUZUMARU Minta, etc...

Mangakas also no longer stick to one genre only. They explore whichever of them they want, from BL to Seinen to others. 

ie: Tamekou, 

or Asumiko Nakamura

The curious case of Webtoons

With the digitalization of mangas, throught Renta and Lehzin, it has become easier (and more expensive) to access these stories. Korea makes and appearence with their webtoons. Through the lack of piracy protections and the majority of them being digital, manhwa (korean webtoons) sees a rise in popularity. Through the digital medium the influencee can be the influencer.

However, like many other East Asian countries they have consumed BL, without hearing about the conversations about BL. So they end up mantaining the older themes and stereotypes that newer BL is trying to leave behind. Therefore, we end up with a mix of old and new, ie:

Killing Stalking 2016 Cherry Blossoms After Winter 2017 Painter of The Night 2019

Additionally, it is also thanks to the easy access to internet that Omegaverse, with its higher dramatic stakes (that parallel hetero dynamics), enters the mangasphere in 2016. It has grown in popularity ever since.

With the Thai BL Boom of 2020, Japan rediscovers its own BL market and starts investing in it more. Which is why we get live action adaptations of BL manga that was popular years ago (Candy Color Paradox was a manga from 2010), the more recent ones (The End of the World With You) or new anime adaptations (Saezuru Tori wa Habatakanai in 2020). 

more on this in my japanese live action BL post

What has it become now? is it BL? ML? or Seinen? Or is it all just gay manga?

It is clear that Shoujo manga (with BL, Josei and Seinen) is exploring queer themes such as gender and sexuality more and more. Japan is interested in this conversation, not only in manga (Genderless fashion). Which brings up the current question in BL studies: Does it make sense to keep these categories?

As a response to BL, ML (Male Love), which is made by gay men for gay men, started happening (around the 70s too). And Bara (gay manga porn) in response to Yaoi. However both gay men and women read BL and ML. We also see other themes being explored through BL, such as friendship (in BL Metamorphose), food (in Kinou Nani Tabeta), male relationships of all kinds (in Strange), and different queer views on life and its challenges (in Shimanami Tasogare). More and more what is LGBT and what is BL is merging, the line is blurred. 

Conclusion

BL has been in my life for longer than it hasn't. It is through shoujo and BL that I have come to understand people and romance.

It is flawed, like everything else this life, but it's flourishing in many ways.

The genre feels old and new at the same time. 

We can still find shounen ai/tanbi elements in more modern manga (All About J). Or the gay for you in a new light (Itoshi no Nekkoke). Or more educational manga on queer issues (My Brother’s Husband by Gengoroh Tagame). BL has around 50 years of existence but it is also being born anew in Thailand and Korea. 

BL manga will continue to evolve in acordance to Japanese tastes, as it is still a local market. Hopefully the korean webtoons that get popular will be the more daring ones in their themes. Who knows where it will go from here? The only thing we know for sure is that it will continue to change. Isn't it exciting?

A post on the evolution of live action BL in Japan is coming, to complement this post.  As well as a more detailed explanation of the Yaoi Debates and gay manga.

[tnt-kokoo]

My showgirl

Rin Itoshi × fem!reader

summary: You're a theater girl in the late 1800's. In that time you got quite famous and young girls started seeing you as their 'role model' as for guys started to fell inlove with you. Your charms manage to gather the attention from the one and only Rin Itoshi.

warnings: non I think

Walking into the theater, he saw lots of people in their expensive growns. Rin himself even dressed nice. But that's that's to expect if you wnat to visit the theater and even more if you wnat to go to a show with the new upcoming star, Y/n L/n.

Just hearing the name slip through the lips of people made others fall for you but seeing you live was something so different. It felt like the most loving memory someone could have. Imagining you being with them and embracing the viewers into a seductive warmth.

But the dark haired boy told himself that people were making a way too big drama about it and just let their 'inner poet' out. It made the boy gag and look at them with disgust filling his face.

Now paying for the entry ticket, his family, which includes himself as well as his parenst and even his brother, walked towards their seats on the upper rows. From there it might be a bit harder to see or hear the performance but atleast it wasn't as bad as having to fight to get a good look at you like in the lower rows.

The lights dimmed as the big red curtains opened slowly. The lights started to shine in the middle of the stage and that's where you stood.

Seeing you made Rins heart clench as his eyes widened and looked at your beauty. Your whole persona looked like the beauty of the first snow fall of the year, the way it was so cold, yet so welcoming and lovable.

Watching the show continue, he realized people weren't lying and you were, infact the prettiest girl he's ever seen.

After the show you and your colleagues all held eachothers hand and bow down to the crowd watching. With a big and loud applause the curtains began closing as Rin hoped they would stay open a bit longer so he could look at you again. Yet, to his luck they weren't going to open again just for him.

As others, as well as the Itoshi family begann leaving, Rin couldn't help but stay in his seat a bit longer, dreaming of you.

"What are you waiting for, Rin?" The cold voice effects his brother woke him up momentarily and he stood up to follow. Outside in the big hall of the theater, the crowd of the rich families were talking with eachother in the finest dresses caressing the grounds. The laughter made the atmosphere more comfortable, but Rin wasn't attentive. He only wanted to see you one last time.

Somehow, his wish was heard as the actors of the play (you included) walked out with different clothes. You looked eternal to the point that even the whitest of snow couldn't beat your bright aura. The young boy couldn't help but be amazed when he heard your giggle. So he started to walk towards you without thinking for once, no one seemed to notice him except for his brother who noticed the way his face softened when he saw you.

So standing infront of you, you looked in his way, waiting for him to say why he came.

....

"Can.. Can I help you?" you said in an unsure voice while laughing in a nervous manner. But who wouldn't be nervous if a tall guy just came and stared at you without saying anything?

Acknowledging what he did, he started by apologizing, followed with a "I saw your show, it was good- you were good." He said with his ears now bright red.

"Thank you...," you said as ypu looked around "want to follow me to a more quiet place?" you asked.

Smiling you held out your hand to him and when he put his hand in your soft ones, he knew he was damned for.

____________________________________________

ᯓᝰ: I have ao many drafts but I find no motivation and I gotta study French for my final exams 😭🙏

[valeriianz]

Thinking about how we, as a fandom, seemed to have forgotten the ridiculousness of the mistletoe tradition. Oh, to be kissed by a stranger under a parasitic plant in public! Why yes, sign Dream up.

Thinking about Hob decorating the New Inn for Christmas. Dream drops in unexpectedly (but certainly not unwelcome) as usual, curious to see Hob draping multicolored lights along the open shelves of liquor behind the bar.

“What are you doing, Hob?”

“What does it look like I'm doing?” and Hob would turn back to his work, and Dream would watch, fascinated. Listening to the cheery music playing through the speakers, listening to Hob speak of the centuries past, how the celebration of the Christmas holiday had been pretty steadily thus since the mid 1800’s.

“The pagan holiday?” Dream would inquire, dragging his fingers along the taped up holiday cards along the backsplash of the bar, like moth’s wings stuck out and on display. Some even transferring soft glitter on Dream’s fingers, making him rub them together curiously.

“Well,” Hob would shrug with a grin. “The Christian bastardization of it.”

“Hardly,” Dream mused. “The Romans celebrated Saturnalia in this time, honoring the god with a feast and gifts.”

“No foolin’, eh?”

And, since it was late and Hob was feeling good about the work he’d done, he’d pour Dream a glass of red and offer him a seat, both of them sitting at the bar and admiring the twinkling lights, the smell of pine from the fresh garland, the garish oversized stockings tacked to the walls, and– Dream noticed with puzzlement, a single bunch of berries and leathery leaves hanging from the ceiling in the middle of an archway.

“I do not recognize this.”

Hob followed his friend’s gaze and, “oh,” he’d laugh. But it sounds… off-kilter, nervous or embarrassed. 

“It’s mistletoe. Just this– parasitic plant–”

“Why does it have a bow on it?”

“For fun.” Hob would level Dream with a look like, lighten up. Get into the spirit.

“Elaborate.”

And Hob would hmm and haa about this relatively silly tradition about kissing under a mistletoe, how the “rule” had kind of faded away in the past decade or so, but it was still a fun little thing and Hob, ever the purveyor of all things dreadfully human, wants to keep the tradition alive, even if no one really follows along anymore.

And Dream, knowing full well he doesn’t need an excuse to kiss his immortal, very human partner, decides to humor Hob.

He slips from his seat, hearing Hob snicker from behind him, probably knowing full well what he’s about to do, and Dream walks to stand directly under the plant.

The bar is closed, no one else is in the building, but Hob looks around anyway, like there would be anyone else who would take advantage of this opportunity. Dream has to physically bite down a delighted smile as Hob shrugs– well if no one else will– and all but jumps from his stool, slowly walking toward Dream with his hands in his jeans’ pockets.

Without even touching Dream, Hob leans in and pecks him on the mouth.

Dream’s brows rise up to his hairline. “Is that it?”

“I’m afraid so, love.” He points up to the plant above them. "They don’t hang these in public places for full blown make out sessions, you know.”

“Hm…” Dream considers this, and decides if the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe only yields one chaste thing, then he’d have to start collecting them enough to make something substantial out of it.

Cue the ridiculous montage of Hob finding Dream in various locales, venues, anywhere he’s at (even at a holiday staff party) and in all manner of positions, under a mistletoe.

“Was that even there before?” Hob would ask, a red solo cup in his hand and smirking like a fool at the sight of Dream slouching against the wall, a– quite large actually– mistletoe dangling from the ceiling above his head.

“Does it matter?” Dream would counter and Hob would shrug, fair enough, and acquiesce to the plant’s demands. It was a Christmas tradition, after all.

Or Hob entering his office at work and finding Dream draped across his desk, holding a plastic mistletoe that looked like it was bought at a drug store high above his head.

Hob would take a few moments to stand and stare, enamored by this ridiculous creature.

“You know how much I love you?” It’s not what Hob meant to say, he was going to quip something about dramatic Endless and their need for attention, but he’s so gone over Dream that his mouth barely cooperates with his brain in these situations.

Dream would preen, stretching his long legs down so they dangle off the edge of the desk, like a cat sunning himself, shaking the plastic plant for emphasis. 

“You could show me.”

This is their new tradition, every Christmas season. Hob finds Dream everywhere in the waking world, distracting Hob, raising eyebrows, and starting up strange rumor mills. But it’s in the privacy of his own home, coming back from work, and finding Dream wailing desperately against the foyer of his kitchen, a planted mistletoe hanging from the ceiling, as usual. 

“Oh, Hob Gadling,” Dream would cast an arm over his eyes. “How I’ve waited for you to come back and free me from the spell these dreadful berries have put me under.”

“Okay,” Hob would grin, biting back a laugh. “Would a kiss suffice?”

Dream would be hanging off the wall, his long, rail thin limbs bent at every angle under faux duress. 

“Oh! It might do. I feel shackled under this strange power this greenery emanates.”

“Dream of the Endless,” Hob would tease, dropping his bag and taking off his coat as he walks to his impossible lover. “Brought down by a common earthly sprout.”

“Yes, yes, now will you get over here?” 

And once Hob is within arms reach, laughing hard enough to wheeze, Dream would grab him by the shoulders and pull him in.

[bettyfrommars]

Monster Eddie Jobs: haunted clown doll. Poltergeist. One of those paintings where the eyes follow you around. INCUBUS

haunted clown doll it is

hauntedClownDoll!Eddie x Reader

another blurb from The Nightmare Factory

Nightmare Factory Masterlist Clown!Eddie art

Another step in Eddie's journey to find the Nightmare Factory job that will entice you to want to get to know him. A lot of you darlings came through with a handful of fun, creative requests, and I'm excited to keep them going through spooky season! I will also be using others that were mentioned in this particular ask, and always happy to receive more! I stayed at the Clown Motel once and lived to tell. There really is a cemetery right next to it, no lie. wc: 1.5k

18+ONLY, mature themes, nightmares, clowns, longing

The Clown Motel in Tonopah, Nevada gave you the creeps, but all you needed was a quick bed for the night, and $65 was about all you could afford.  There was an old cemetery next to the property, and if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve assumed it was all a staged setup to add to the spooky appeal of the motel.  But, no—the headstones were all very real, dating back to the late 1800’s.

You saw him when you first came in—he was impossible to miss.  The life-sized clown doll dressed in colorful stripes with a wide mouth and round, rubber nose.  He sat in the middle of a square nook filled with clown dolls of all shapes and sizes.  Some were ceramic, some were cloth.  Some were wood, carved to look like a nutcracker.  The big clown had one hand in his lap and one hanging down his side, and his eager eyes sought you in a way that made you avert your attention until you were done checking in.  

Your room was on the second tier and you took some time to get cleaned up before calling over to the restaurant across the way to order some food.  On you way back across the street, clutching the styrofoam container in your hand, you caught a glimpse of something bright in the cemetery.

It was dusk, and you wondered if maybe it was someone visiting one of the burial sites.

But, with a muffled scream you noticed—for a split second—that it was the same clown doll from the lobby standing like a statue by one of the headstones.

It was watching you, leering at you, and it lifted its arm in a stiff wave as the wind blew back the silk of his costume.

You blinked and choked, and when you focused on the spot in the distance again—the clown was no longer there.  

Eddie materialized in the cemetery to get a better look at where you were, and then he tripped over his floppy shoes and almost impaled himself on a handmade, wooden cross.  

He cursed under his breath, wondering why he chose Haunted Clown Doll over some type of apparition so that he could be near you without making you uncomfortable.  First of all, he thought having a physical body would solve the communication problem, but of course—the clown’s face couldn’t move, and his voice came out as not much more than a mocking cackle.

Second, it was only a three day training, and most of it was just watching safety videos about how to walk in the shoes.  They also taught him to sit for a while, and then stand in the corner, and then hover near the bed when the person having the nightmare least expected it.  

They repeated a lot of the same shit at the training, and when he crossed his arms over his chest to sink back in his chair, he started to fall asleep.

He snorted awake with a start when the teacher—-a professional Nightmare Clown with a gaping maw of sharp teeth and a bright green wig—-barked his name.

“Sorry,” Eddie said groggily.  “I’m listening.”

“Is that right?” The teacher clown also had cat’s eyes for pupils and a polka dot jumper with ruffles at the wrists and blood stains across the front.  “Indulge the rest of the class and tell me what the last rule was I just went over.”

The “class” consisted of 3 unfortunate souls, including Eddie.  

Eddie could not contain the yawn that stretched his mouth, so he spoke while it was happening.  “Going under the covers,” he answered.  “When the person puts their head under the covers, they are safe, and we can’t touch them or scare them.”

“Exactly, now, how do we keep them from going under the covers?”

Eddie must’ve blanked out on that one.  “Um, we can’t?”

The teacher heaved a weary sigh, cocking their head.  “Distractions, Munson. Doors that fly open, a face in the window, whispers in their ear.”

This was all beginning to sound way above his pay grade, and he wasn’t interested in being the best student or the best employee—he just wanted to see you again.

He should’ve dematerialized before you caught a glimpse of him from across the street, but some insane part of him hoped you might recognize him—even though you’d never seen his actual form, and he was dressed like a literal clown this time.  

A car honked, jolting you from your reverie, and as you jogged the rest of the way into the parking lot, your eyes darted around, hoping to god that you would not see the clown again.

On your way to the stairs, you passed by the glass front to the lobby, and found yourself looking in to make eye contact with the clown doll again.  Its eyeballs were painted on, but somehow—you felt like they were watching you, as if someone were looking through from the other side.  Both of its hands were in its lap, now, and its shoulders were hunched; big, oversized red shoes planted on the floor; short, frizzy orange hair sticking out of a floppy sleeping cap.  

You went up and watched some lame sitcoms while you ate your dinner, and you tried to forget about the inanimate clown doll that was gnawing at your brain.

Eddie noticed how you took the time to check in on him on the way to your room, and his heart leapt.  And then, he thought he was the one dreaming when he watched you descend the stairs and return to the lobby a few hours later.

The night manager popped his head out to ask if you needed any help, but you confessed you were only there to look at the clowns.

One in particular.

You made your way over to stand at his side and covertly whispered in his ear.  “Was that you out in the cemetery today?”

Eddie’s clown hand fell from his lap to sway at his side, making you jump back, eyes widening at the coincidence.

When you found the nerve, you leaned closer, inspecting the wide, painted smile on his porcelain face, the brown of his irises.

You were so close, Eddie could smell you.  You radiated fresh lavender and coconut hand lotion and a tang of garlic from the dinner you just ate.  He watched your lips move as you whispered to yourself, something about, “where have I seen this clown before?”

Eddie couldn’t speak though, he could only chuckle, and he didn’t think it was the right time.

The body of the doll was so lifelike; you had to feel it for yourself.  With a shaky hand, you reached out to touch his shoulder—it wasn’t soft like stuffing, it was hard, like a store mannequin.  You bent down to squeeze the thigh, finding that it was made of the same solid material.

Eddie could feel everything, the way you were caressing him. On his plane of existence, he parted his lips and let his eyes roam over your face.  Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be able to kiss you.

You bought some souvenirs—-a shot glass and a mug for your mom—and then returned to your room for the night.

It took you a while to get to sleep, but when you finally dozed off to the point that your body jerked from an imaginary fall, clown Eddie was sitting in the chair in the corner.  The maniacal smile stretched across his face was locked in place—his eyes unblinking as they stared across the room at you.  

You rolled over with a groan, pulling the covers closer to your chin as you went.  

Eddie materialized at the side of the bed, at your back, tilting his head, wishing he could crawl in and put his arms around you.  He’d take his big, stupid shoes off first.

The next morning, you woke up refreshed, and busied yourself around the motel room getting ready for the last leg of your road trip, oblivious to the way Eddie had been standing at the foot of your bed all night.  

After your suitcase was in the car, you went to drop the key off at the front desk, and noticed the life-sized clown was no longer therr.  You went over to inspect the area: its chair between the shelves of smaller clowns was gone too.  There was not a trace of it, as if it had vanished.

“Hey, so, where did you put the huge clown that was down here?” You asked politely as you passed the man your key.

He squinted at you, a bit confused.  “Huge clown, you mean the nutcracker ones?”

“No, the really big one,” you turned to point to the area where it had been.  “It was taller than me with enormous red shoes, a really creepy smile.  It was sitting right over there when I checked in yesterday.”

The man bent forward over the desk to see where you were pointing, even though he had no idea what  you were babbling about.  

“We’ve never had a clown that size,” he assured you. “But I wish we did. It sounds like something from a nightmare.”

[momotonescreaming]

I went digging through my fics, and found this. Absolutely no idea when I wrote this, or if I shared it already, but I can't stop thinking about it. Enjoy.

It’s the 1800’s, and Steve is the first born and only son of Richard Harrington, heir to the Harrington fortune. Expectations have been placed upon him since he was born, and it only got worse as he got older. He was too kind, liked flowers, and playing in the mud, and learning about horses and carriages and trains, and sitting with his mother while she put on make up and had her ladies maid do her hair. Then came the lessons from the private tutor (since the Harrington’s were too good for the local school) and Steve wasn’t as book smart as his father wanted him to be.

His father was mean and his mother was scared and so Steve spent a lot of time out in the fields as a young boy, wandering the land his father owned, picking up sticks and pretending to be a sheriff or an adventurer riding a fast horse into the sunset.

So he played until it got dark and Steve still didn’t go back home. Dad would yell and Mom would give him That Look and he didn’t want to change into his fancy dinner clothes. So Steve stays out late and wanders.

There are things living in the woods.

Things with teeth that hunt and kill and make people disappear. But no one tells poor little Steve this. He gets attacked by a wolf that isn’t quite a wolf, and screams so so loud.

Nobody hears him.

One of his father’s farmhands find him in the woods in the early morning. His clothes are ripped and he’s dirty and covered in blood but he doesn’t have any wounds, save for one single wolf bite. The man rushes him back to the Harrington Manor House, and someone calls the doctor. Steve is bathed, and fed, and checked over and the doctor tells his parents that he’s lucky it wasn’t worse. He gets better and goes back to his lessons.

Next month he gets a fever. Steve is sweaty and delirious, and hungry and itchy and restless and nothing quite helps. He blacks out one night and when he wakes up he’s curled up on the hardwood floor and all his furniture has been ripped apart. The servants whisper the word “werewolf” in the halls.

His parents fire half the servants, pay them off to keep their mouth shut, and hire someone who can help. A friendly woman named Mrs Henderson, whose dead ex-husband was a werewolf like Steve. She teaches him what she can while Richard Harrington hires men to build a stone basement underneath a small cottage at the very back of the Harrington Land. Where no one can see.

So Steve grows up, he falls in love, he finds out his sweetheart Nancy doesn’t love him, he befriends Dustin Henderson, and then Robin Buckley - a  dorky local girl who plays the trumpet and works at a store in town. And once a month, he takes himself down to the basement of the cottage, and turns into a werewolf. Mrs Henderson could only help so much, not being a Werewolf herself. His control is better than it was, but he still doesn’t trust himself. So chained in the basement it is.

Then there’s Eddie Munson, the poor son of an outlaw living with his uncle in a tiny house in the town of Hawkins. Grew up learning how to break the law with his father, how to live off the land, how to shoot and hunt and survive. He hated it, little Eddie wanted to learn to play the guitar and read and tell stories. But Pa didn’t give him much of a choice. Until Ma died and Pa spiralled and ended up getting caught and shipped off to prison. So he went to live with his uncle Wayne. And he made friends, and told stories, and started writing.

And then he watched a girl die and got blamed for her murder. So he’s on the run, and he knows how to survive but not when he doesn’t have any supplies. And not in a town where everyone knows his name and his face. So he runs. And he hides. First in his friend Rick's, who’s away in jail or on a job or something. Eddie's not sure and he really doesn't care right now. But he gets close to getting caught again. So he runs again until he finds a barn, semi abandoned in the middle of nowhere.

He’s close to the Harrington’s land, this he knows. But everyone knows they travel for business all the time, so it’s fine.

Except it’s not.

He’s tired and hungry and scared and it’s dark. There’s a light in the distance - lantern. He ducks down, waiting. Except it’s not the Sheriff, or Jason Carver (who took it upon himself to become a bounty hunter, to avenge the death of his sweetheart). It’s Steve Harrington. The semi-estranged, semi-reclusive Harrington heir, who looks grim and angry as he storms across the field. And he doesn’t see Eddie, doesn’t look at the barn, doesn’t even have a horse.

Steve goes into the cottage and Eddie doesn’t know whether to stay put until he leaves in the morning or make a run for it. Eddie is still paralysed with fear and indecision when he notices the full moon in the sky.

He hears a guttural scream, the snap of bone, a howling; and Eddie remembers the stories his Uncle Wayne would tell him of the things that live in the woods.

[choccy-milky]

Clora having an adorable mother and the world's most terrifying father makes so much sense. She's inquisitive, strong, brave and scary in her own right like her dad and yet she's small, adorable, sweet and a little naive like her mom, whom she looks just like. It makes sense.

Which means that Sebastian is in for it big time when they're older and it's time to ask for her hand. It's the 1800's, the late 1800's so technically he doesn't have to, Clora says, but Sebastian has met Clive and he knows that if he marries Clora and doesn't ask before hand for her fathers blessing that he might go mysteriously missing or be hit by a curse that causes erectile dysfunction. Which is so much worse.

Doesn't stop him from having a few nervous breakdowns, hyperventilating just a little bit, crying to Ominis that he thinks it's coming, the tea cup with the grimm truly was an omen and his time has come to die.

But, of course, when he asks Clive all he is met with is a long silent stare.

"My daughter has already informed me of your future nuptials. I don't understand why you're here."

Clive knows he doesn't need anyone asking for permission to marry his darling daughter, she's just like him she can definitely take care of herself. Also, I bet he's nicer than he lets on, his wife is the one to actually watch out for.

Sebastian: Your parents live on being contrary.

Clora: ???

He understands this, knows this and gets that his wife is exactly like her parents and that maybe he has bit off more than he could chew.

Ominis: You willingly married into this family. You've no one to blame but yourself.

Sebastian: I know. *puts down newspaper where his wife is on the front cover for taking out a ring of deadly dark wizards singlehandedly, proving just how dangerous Clora can be* I love her so much.

OMG???😭🥹💖💖I LOVED READING THIS!!! THANK YOU FOR WRITING AND SENDING ALL OF THAT AND PUTTING SO MUCH THOUGHT INTO THE CHARACTERS....😭you are so right, clora really is a combo of her parents just in different ways (and its also cracking me up, now that seb has met her dad, that he'll start to recognize clora's "clive mode" when she gets stubborn and serious and puts her foot down HAHA like omg...this is the same sort of feeling i get when her father stares me down...) AN ERECTILE DYSFUNCTION CURSE LMAOOO but youre also so right in that for as overprotective and 1890s as clive is and despite the way he tests seb, he also values clora + her judgement + her happiness, and as long as clora doesnt pick anyone who he actually deems to be a bad person, clive wouldnt feel the need to give his approval (even if seb THINKS he should get it/needs to get it) CLIVE IS A FEMINIST!!! and indeed also much nicer than he lets on🫠 (the only thing is that seb would have been WITH clora taking down that deadly ring of dark wizards. his overprotective ass may know shes capable but that doesnt change the fact that he protects her/treats her as if she isnt BAHHA he cant help it💕)

[canisalbus]

how many distinct AUs do you have? had half an idea for a fanart thing but I only know of the Main Canon and then the modern AU lmao

There's the original late Renaissance canon, right now that seems to be in the process of splitting into two separate endings, a bad and a little less bad one. Vasco is a politician and Machete is a cardinal.

Then there's the modern au, which I'm currently treating as a reincarnation scenario, it takes place in the same universe as the first one, just some 400 years later. This is the happiest and most domestic option.

And lastly there's the elusive 1800's western au, a wildcard setting which started as an one-off joke but was fun enough that I may return to it from time to time, but you don't really have to pay attention to it. Vasco is a cowboy and Machete is a vampire.

[leillaaaa]

hiii! about that one terukane post discussing the clock keepers’ original time period/location, i did some light searching and it mostly points to the clock keepers coming from around the 1800s! i’ll write down a few reasons why!

clothing:

mirai’s attire may seem a bit more western at first glance , but going off her sandals (sorry i’m not sure about the name) and the outfit under her cloak, it seems that it is either inspired or is the same as 1800’s japanese winter wear, with the same design, albeit with mirai’s design being a bit more puffy/flowy(?) see here:

so mirai’s outfit points to around the 1800’s, but what about kako and akane?

kako and akane don’t have much to go off, except for their sleeve garters/arm bands! sleeve garters started being manufactured around the late 1800’s, and they were used by people who needed to adjust their sleeves without much hassle! kako is shown to tinker with machinery, and we all know that can become seriously messy, so he uses sleeve garters to prevent his sleeves from being too long and messing with his work!

another thing to add are their tassels, which were used in the 1800’s as well(?)

other than their clothing, we can also refer to their boundary and the particular clock they used in chapter 111!

machinery:

the boundary mechanisms look particularly similar to clocks i found online that date back 200 years ago (i think) like this,

although i am not sure if this can be used as evidence as inspiration could be taken from any similar time periods, i believe that it most resembles the machinery of this particular era!

however, we can see that the big clock used to change the present/operated by the yorishiro has a unique style, quite unlike clocks today or the slim grandfather clocks we associate with the clock keepers! however, I found a clock quite similar to it that dates back to early-mid 1800’s (1800-1849)!

even though the time periods don’t nessecarily overlap, it still proves to be quite useful evidence!

it’s quite reminiscent of the big ben, built in 1943, overlapping with the manufactured period of the supernatural clock they used 🕰️, giving me reason to believe that the clock keepers might have made/maintained this when alive in that time period as mechanics!

lastly, the town!

not much to say here, but judging by the common people in the heart of the boundary and the fact that they spoke an unfamiliar language, i have reason to believe that kako might have originated from around europe, prob not in england, because akane learns english in school! (not accounting for older english)

i won’t say that it is in this specific location, because tbhk is obv a work of fiction with little to no actual ties to real locations, but i will say that the town is reminiscent of old luxembourg in ville-haute, to the south, which was known for its industry in the 19th century!

for reference:

sorry for the bad quality ahah

there are some holes here and there such as mirai’s japanese like clothing not matching kako’s more western attire, or why certain thing don’t overlap, but this is what i could find haha

so in conclusion i’d reckon the clock keepers to be from around the 1800’s in europe(my guess is old luxembourg city in villehaute, southern luxembourg), where kako is a mechanic known for his knack for machinery and mirai is either his adopted daughter from far away or a pinocchio-esque figure to keep kako company!

hope this helped!

WAHHH, TYYY !! This was so helpful, tysm !! (≧∇≦)b <3